


like you swallowed a bone

by nanatsuyu



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021, Angst with a Happy Ending, Communication Failure, Drunk calls, Dysfunctional Family, Everyone is really bad at feelings, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Nicky Hemmick deserves the world, POV Alternating, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29031570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanatsuyu/pseuds/nanatsuyu
Summary: “Why are you calling me, then?”There was a pause as he waited for Aaron to explain. Aaron made sure the sip on his coffee could be heard across the line.“It’s not our scheduled call.”Every other day he had to remind himself that ‘being abrasive’ was a genetic trait in the Minyard DNA, and he could continue rolling his eyes, but it was still better than Andrew not speaking to him at all. He opted for the civil route. “Nicky called me.”Andrew paused so long, Aaron wondered if he had hung up. Conversations with his twin were short, but that would be a new record.“The sun also rises and sets every day. This isn’t really something that’s newsworthy, so I’ll ask again: why are you calling me about this, Aaron?”“He wants to know if we consider him family.”
Relationships: Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Nicky Hemmick & Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Nicky Hemmick/Erik Klose
Comments: 37
Kudos: 306
Collections: AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021





	like you swallowed a bone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enifmiimfine (gahhhastly)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gahhhastly/gifts).



> Wrote this for AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2021!! My song was "There Must Be More Than Blood" by Car Seat Headrest, and let me say from the bottom of my heart: I looped this while writing for a month and I am now legally depressed. Though, I'm now in love with that mini album. <3
> 
> Hope you like it, enifmiimfine!

_Bzzt_

_Bzzt_

It was a little too early to be his alarm, so whoever was calling him better have a damn good reason. He patted down his pillow to get a better view of the nightstand clock. _Three in the morning? Really?_

If they weren’t dying, they certainly would be soon. 

Aaron waited until his phone stopped ringing from beneath his pillow, content to pretend it never went off in the first place. If it was important they would just have to wait till morning. 

He had _just_ started dozing off again when the sound of his voicemail rang through and Aaron groaned into his pillow. Sliding his hand around the sheets, he searched for the current bane of his existence, squinting at the display for his opponent's name in his next shouting match.

Nicky, apparently.

His cousin was stupid, but he wasn’t ‘ _call Aaron at one in the morning before a rotation at the hospital_ ’ stupid. The war between wanting to call back and bitch about remembering time zones versus sleeping it off was put to a stalemate when he saw how long the voicemail was. At nearly five minutes, Aaron was convinced someone actually _had_ died. 

He laid back onto the pillow, closing his eyes as he put the phone to his ear and imagined what drama he was going to get dragged back into now. A few months of peace was apparently too much to ask for. The line clicked over and Aaron waited.

And waited.

After about a minute, he glanced at the screen to see the recording was still going. Having a name that started with the letter A was going to be the death of him for accidental calls. It was also going to be the death of _Nicky_. He was about to slam the phone shut when he caught the faintest shaking breath on the other end of the line. It was so quick Aaron could’ve missed it. He pulled himself up, moving the blanket aside to sit on the edge of the bed as the sniffles on the line grew in volume. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he checked the time again: another four minutes to go. 

It took Nicky several starts and stops before he was able to get the words out. Aaron felt his stomach turn at how watery they sounded. Heavy emotions that didn’t lean red were still not his strong suit.

_“Aaron, do you—do you resent me? F-for all the times I-I failed, I mean.”_

Aaron tilted the phone closer to his ear in order to better make out the hushed tone Nicky was speaking in, slowly building from quiet and stuttering to too frantic. Every breath he took sounded like it was torn from him, as if the words were trying to leave in a rush before he lost his nerve. 

_“—so fucking selfish to even be calling. I just—”_

Aaron scrubbed a hand through his hair, imagining the way Nicky gestured as he spoke, curling in on himself and catching his breath every so often.

_“—I shouldn’t bother, I know. I just need to know I did right by you. Both you—”_

He had heard this plea before, not in so many words, but in the glances Nicky had shot him over the years, quietly asking for something Aaron hadn’t been ready to give an answer to. Misplaced anger was Aaron’s specialty. Though, recently, he found he had lost his touch for it.

_“I never asked the right questions, did I? I assumed and never bothered to understand Andrew. I’m no better than—”_

The blankets stirred behind Aaron then, Katelyn reaching out to rub at his back in question. “Is everything okay?” 

He looked over his shoulder, gesturing to the phone as he spoke, “Nicky called.”

Aaron paused, wondering if he should say more, but he had never gotten into the habit of lying to her and broken the one of omitting things that hurt a while ago. “He’s been drinking.” 

Her brow furrowed, gears turning enough to chase the sleep from her expression. “At ten in the morning?”

Aaron returned her confused look before connecting the dots. For someone so ready to raze hell over timezones, he himself had forgotten it was a little early for Nicky to be chasing the end of a bottle… It was also a little more than odd for _Nicky_ himself to be chasing the end of a bottle. 

_“—has to be more than that. You’re my family. I know you hate it. I know it doesn’t mean anything to you. But it does to me. I need you to know that, even—even if you hate me for it.”_

Katelyn had fully sat up now, concern growing when Aaron hadn’t answered her. She reached a hand over his shoulder, light but grounding. He pressed his lips to the ring on her finger as Nicky began to wind down into a fit of hiccups. Another voice picked up over the line that Aaron easily registered as Erik’s; a gentle coaxing to get Nicky to put down the phone. A few more watery coughs and the line went dead. 

Aaron didn’t mean to hit play again—or maybe he did, just to enjoy the weight in his stomach dropping further and further until he would never be able to dredge it back up. Aaron couldn’t tell if the whispered apology he caught at the end was for him or Erik. Nicky had never sounded so tired.

Playing it back once was an accident, playing it thrice would mean he was concerned. Katelyn’s hand moved to smooth down the hair at his nape. He cut the line before he could hear the word _family_ again. 

He turned to Katelyn, and his expression must have said everything he didn’t want to, because she laid back down, pulling him along with her. He buried his face into her collar with a sigh, the one he reserved for the long suffering issues that only Nicky and Andrew could bring to the table. She trailed her nails across his shoulders, blessedly avoiding the questions he knew she wanted to ask. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her; Katelyn knew more than any one person should know about him, but— 

It could wait till morning. 

The alarm bells of urgency were ringing in his head, but it could wait. He needed to think about Nicky’s question first.

“I’ll figure it out,” he murmured, more to himself than Katelyn. She responded with a small squeeze to his arm. The comfort it lent was short lived as a guilt he had been ignoring for years clawed its way out of the cage he had locked it away in; its one word chant deafening the quiet the early morning hours normally offered:

_Family._

—

As expected, Aaron didn’t get much sleep that night. He didn’t catch up on it the next day, either. Rotations typically left him exhausted, and while that normally wasn’t a problem, the added stress of the phone call he would have to make later started an ache in the back of his skull lasting long into the next night.

Aaron went about making a cup of coffee, staring at his phone and willing it to dial the number on its own. He didn’t want to deal with this; he didn’t _then_ , and he didn’t _now_ . The little weight in his stomach jumped and the incentive not to lock his knees became a necessity as he leaned back against the counter. _It was just a call_ , his brain tried to helpfully supply. 

“As if that makes it any easier,” he groaned to himself. He took a couple sips from his mug, outlining what he should say. When it became glaringly obvious that predictability was not going to be on his side with this one, he flipped the phone open and punched in a memorized set of numbers. The line rang only once.

 _“What?”_

Aaron wasn’t expecting the immediate pick up, but he supposed he should stop trying to guess how Andrew was going to act. It never did him any good. The note of concern under the bored tone was welcomed, though. If only it hadn’t taken Aaron so long to be able to read that in their other conversations.

“Nothing’s wrong—” he replied, before being promptly cut off.

 _“Why are you calling me, then?”_ There was a pause as he waited for Aaron to explain. Aaron made sure the sip on his coffee could be heard across the line. _“It’s not our scheduled call.”_

Every other day he had to remind himself that ‘being abrasive’ was a genetic trait in the Minyard DNA, and he could continue rolling his eyes, but it was still better than Andrew not speaking to him at all.

“Good thing you’re not in prison then. I’d hate to be your one phone call,” was what Aaron _wanted_ to say, but he opted for the civil route. “Nicky called me.”

Andrew paused so long, Aaron wondered if he had hung up. Conversations with his twin were short, but that would be a new record. 

_“The sun also rises and sets every day. This isn’t really something that’s newsworthy, so I’ll ask again: why are you calling me about this, Aaron?”_

“He called me at three in the morning, drunk off his ass—and before you get smart, it was three in the morning _for me_. You can do the math on that.”

 _“Day drinking isn’t a crime_.”

Aaron knew if the roles were reversed he probably would have said the same, but that didn’t make it any less annoying to hear out loud. 

“When was the last time you saw Nicky drink before noon?” Aaron could count on one hand the number of times he personally had, and every one of those times had been because of the twins. Nicky drank hard at Fox tower, and even harder at Eden’s, but he didn’t tip the bottle in escape like the rest of them—at least not in plain sight. It occurred to Aaron then that maybe it was _because_ of them that Nicky did and _didn’t_ drink as much as would have been expected of someone in Nicky’s situation. A common ground in forced sobriety for someone else was something they all shared and something Aaron hoped to never think about again. 

Andrew was far more observant than Aaron would ever give him credit for, so he knew those times of Nicky drinking less to party and more to cope were vivid in his mind as well. Aaron took another sip of his coffee to keep himself upright. “He was sobbing by the end of it.”

When it was obvious Andrew was waiting for him to recant the entire call, Aaron debated pouring something a darker shade of amber into his cup. 

“He asked if I thought he did a poor job of being our legal guardian.” Nicky’s actual phrasing of _‘stand in parental figure’_ was a mouthful and if repeated would likely make him flinch to hear coming out of his own mouth. Aaron could paraphrase where necessary to save him the trouble of redialing as well. 

They had gotten better at talking, he and Andrew, but the line of what they could stomach was thin, and if Aaron was honest, not always clear. Heated therapy sessions had whittled down the rougher parts of their relationship, but that left a fine point to some things that may never get resolved. Aaron could live with that, though. He had a sinking suspicion Andrew could too.

 _“Did anyone ever tell him that ‘he did a poor job’?”_ He could hear Andrew making air quotes through the phone as he spoke. His tone wasn’t incredulous, but there was an underlying sense of mockery that Aaron would still never get used to coming out of Andrew’s mouth and burrowing under his skin.

“Did either of us ever tell him that he _didn’t_?”

Aaron didn’t get a chance to raise his hackles further, given another voice cutting through on Andrew’s line and pulling his attention away.

The concern in Neil’s _“Everything okay?”_ sounded uncomfortably familiar to Aaron’s conversation with Katelyn the other night and Aaron buried that so far in the back of his mind he hoped it never saw light again. They got along better now, but Aaron wasn’t sure he would ever _like_ Neil. Then again, he never thought he would like Andrew either.

There was a rustling against the mic, and Aaron imagined Andrew holding the phone to his chest. He didn’t care to decipher the muffled back and forth, moving to the living room and sinking into the couch. Against his better judgement, he tried to fill the silence once again with what he should say.

Aaron had never been great at being on the receiving end of love. It even felt weird to think about; something foreign, and feeling closer to possession than what everyone else had tried to describe it as. Betsy had constantly reminded Aaron that although his view was skewed, his experiences with the term weren’t invalid. He had hated hearing that then, and while it wasn’t the same open wound it had been, it was beginning to make more sense with time. With Andrew, it had been a nightmare to even accept he was capable. Aaron knew better now, but the wires still felt crossed if he thought on it too long.

With Nicky? Aaron hadn’t given it much thought at all. 

He winced at the realization. 

Andrew lifted the phone back to his ear in time for Aaron to catch the end of the conversation. 

_“Going for a smoke.”_

Aaron didn’t hear Neil press, and there was another bit of rustling. Aaron gave Andrew the time to get comfortable, listening to the sound of doors opening and closing, then the eventual spark of a lighter catching. There was an infinite minute between the slow drag Aaron could hear from the other end and when Andrew spoke again.

_“What did he say? Exactly.”_

Aaron wondered what details he should skip, unsure which would tally up to Andrew dropping the call. Andrew wasn’t _as_ unpredictable as he used to be, not after the poorly worded (albeit useful) advice from Neil so long ago to just _listen_ , but he still knew how to keep Aaron on his toes. Aaron couldn’t get a grasp on why that would bother him so much—Andrew dropping the call on this of all things—but it left a sour taste in his mouth. 

Andrew was considering the situation, though, which meant he wasn’t opposed to wherever this was going. He just hoped Andrew had a better sense of direction.

“He asked if we hated him for all the things he didn’t do,” Aaron finally started.

Andrew exhaled hard enough Aaron could have called it a scoff. _“I think he’s asking the wrong question.”_

“He said he did plenty of that too.”

_“What else?”_

“He asked if he made any impact; if what he did was the right thing, and if _you_ hated him specifically.” Aaron didn’t feel the need to detail exactly why. If never having known kept Aaron in a constant waking nightmare, he couldn’t imagine what that kind of guilt looked like rattling around the cage inside Nicky’s head. Aaron would never get the full story of Andrew’s life; half would be generous. Nicky would get even less than that. 

_“What did he say about you?”_ Andrew asked, completely skipping over the rest of Aaron’s words. _“I have trouble believing he called you to only talk about me.”_

Aaron sat with that for a minute. He had been so used to getting lumped in with his brother’s problems for so long, he forgot what it was like to have the focus narrowed onto himself alone. Being his own person was still a foreign shell to call home, but not unwelcome. So, Aaron did what worked best for his psyche and turned the magnifying glass back on Andrew. It was easier than imagining Nicky thinking so much of him, even if that was the entire point of all this. “Has he ever called _you_ to talk about you?”

“No,” Andrew answered, seemingly uncaring. Aaron let the silence speak for the both of them as to why that was. A few years didn’t change someone overnight. Aaron knew Andrew didn’t cold shoulder Nicky as much as he used to, but they didn’t really _talk_ either. He wouldn’t ever know that from Andrew himself, but it wasn’t hard to pick up from the way Nicky spoke that they still weren’t trading holiday cards. Well, Nicky sent them. Aaron would be concerned if Andrew ever sent one back.

The twins continued their _‘weekly therapy’_ after college: not quite in the same vein of a sit down session with Betsy, though. They called every couple of weeks, _planned_ as Andrew had so aptly put. It was familiar, routine, and dare Aaron say it, a relief. Proximity made communication between them a necessity, and Aaron had half expected a change in scenery would snip whatever ties they had left, after graduation. Andrew probably thought the same, considering he was the first to suggest it. Aaron would put money on it being Betsy’s idea, but with Neil in the picture, it was a toss up.

Regardless of how it started, neither seemed inclined to complain now. The issue was not in that they spoke more, it was in the fact that they left this part out to Nicky. Not intentionally, of course. There was the shared opinion between the two of them that their calls and conversations were just that: theirs. Aaron didn’t detail much to Nicky out of respect for Andrew and he was gathering that Andrew did much the same. Nicky described their calls every few months as “short and generally one sided.” Aaron assumed the one side was in Nicky’s favor. Apparently, Andrew also let Nicky go to voicemail before he would call back. Though, he never hung up until Nicky was finished talking. 

Baby steps.

Now that he really thought about it, it probably seemed the twins never spoke much at all in Nicky’s eyes. With no deal in place and a few hundred miles between them at any given time, it wouldn’t be a farfetched thought given everything. They had done so much work trying to fix themselves, it was inevitable they would forget something.

Aaron reigned in his thoughts and instead chose his next words carefully. Love might have been unfamiliar on his tongue most days, but this one was unkind.

“He wants to know if we consider him family.” Aaron hoped the word didn’t catch over the line quite like it did in his throat. 

_Being related doesn’t make us family._ It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with the sentiment, but he had heard it barked so often between a brother he was just beginning to fully meet and a cousin at the end of his rope, that it was making him tired. Aaron couldn’t deny that Katelyn had been a balm for a lot of the anger that still weighed him down on bad days, but he had let a lot of it go too. It wasn’t an active thing. He didn’t wake up every morning and tell himself to reconcile with those he had burned and been burnt by—that was for people with a little higher opinions of themselves; another shared Minyard trait.

He expected Andrew to blow it off like he had shrugged Nicky off for years when he had tried to toss the word around. 

_“Do you?”_

Did he?

Aaron tried to remember anything that word conjured up that didn’t dig between his ribs. _Family_ was the mother who left him alone to cook for himself before he could barely reach the cabinets. _Family_ was the way she locked the door before he was able to get in before an ever changing curfew, forced to sleep on the porch or crash at a friend’s. _Family_ was three syllables that rang in his ears like a heavy, weighted slap; shaking hands and bruises hid out of sight to avoid too hard questions. It was being overshadowed by the grief and resentment of a brother who wasn’t around to see it. _Family_ was the word that skipped like a bad movie reel beneath heavy lidded eyes and across pinned pupils. It was no one bothering to reach out, consciously oblivious to the way he was slipping into something he couldn’t get control of. 

_Family_ was wanting to be loved without a condition—without a deal. 

“Nicky’s the only one who didn’t stop trying.”

_“Maybe he should have. Save us the trouble of this conversation.”_

“Is that what you really think?” Aaron wasn’t sure whether he was talking to Andrew or himself.

Aaron had watched Nicky flinch hundreds of times around Andrew. There wasn’t a single Fox who doubted that Nicky was afraid of him. Aaron hadn’t seen how the fight started at Eden’s that night, but he saw the way fear played along Nicky’s features that night. It may have been for Nicky’s sake, but it wasn’t something his cousin bounced back from with any grace. Fear like that never really did. Andrew didn’t help the situation certainly, obvious reasons aside.

Despite all that, and even before it: Nicky never locked them out. He never left them without any food in the house, nevermind they were old enough to fend for themselves at that point. He never raised a hand against a smart mouth, and for all Aaron could remember, never even raised his voice in anger. Exasperation was a mask Nicky wore like a second skin, but it had never been in anger of them, but _for_ them. It had taken Aaron a few years to get that through his head; Andrew probably less, but he was the difficult twin for too many reasons to count.

“He had every opportunity to back out. Your anger. _My_ anger. For fuck’s sake, our combined apathy under one roof would have killed anyone else.” _He tried when we refused,_ went without being said.

Andrew lit up another cigarette, giving Aaron just enough pause to dial it back and reconsider how much he said aloud. It was always too much bite, or nothing at all. Another sip at his coffee let him know it had gone cold.

_“When did you grow a conscience?”_

Aaron counted backwards from ten in his head. 

“I was tired more than I was ever angry,” he finally sighed. Trying to get along with someone who talked too much and someone who wouldn’t even acknowledge his presence had that effect after awhile.

Andrew was silent and Aaron knew his brother wanted him to think about his word choice. Aaron filed it away under things he needed to apologize to Nicky for someday. For now it could sit snug between ‘screaming in Nicky’s face more than he ever deserved,’ and ‘never thanking him for coming to every match without fail.’ That particular box seemed to be growing rather than shrinking the longer this call went on.

Andrew cut through his compartmentalizing: _“Does he want an answer just so he can sleep better at night?”_

Andrew knew damn well that none of them slept most nights, but Aaron let it slide. “Don’t _you_ sleep better knowing someone gives a shit about you?”

_“No.”_

“Liar.”

Andrew didn’t deign that with a response, knowing the conversation of Neil Josten had never been fully resolved between the two of them, but settled enough that it was no longer their biggest issue. Andrew also didn’t need Aaron to tell him that the dark circles under Andrew’s eyes had lightened a bit over the years. Whatever Neil meant to Andrew was between them. It was just another thing Aaron had to let go of. Though, he knew whatever _it_ was, it had to be a good thing.

_“Sounds like you already know what the answer is.”_

“And what stunning conclusion would that be?” Aaron replied, convinced Andrew was going to keep jerking him around.

_“Having someone stay was more than anyone else ever did.”_

Hearing something so sincere in Andrew’s voice was something he would never get used to.

—

Nicky prodded his breakfast around with a fork, his previous nights this week leaving him without much of an appetite. He could tell Erik was watching him, and he could tell he wanted to ask, but Erik was kind enough not to be like Nicky in this instance.

Aaron hadn’t called back after the other night— _morning_. Nicky winced at the idea, hoping Aaron had written it off or ignored the voicemail entirely. The thought of breaking something that still felt like it sat on such thin ice between them to begin with, tugged at his chest in a way that made the corner of his eyes sting all over again. He had done plenty of that the last couple weeks over the silence. It wasn’t that they never spoke. Nicky and Aaron spoke often enough that he knew how things were going, that his life was going well, all things considered. Beyond that, Nicky couldn’t say he was privy to further details. That was fine, really. All of that was more than he could have ever asked for. 

Andrew didn’t seem nearly as eager to see Nicky’s name across caller ID, but that wasn’t new. He took the little mercies where he could when Andrew picked up every few months.

The few shared holidays they had were surprisingly less violent than expected, but Nicky had begun to feel it was for his appeasement. The twins would get along when they were in line of sight, but Nicky could feel the way a certain silence filled the seams when he turned away. His parents hadn’t afforded him the same luxury, so playing along was a step up at least. His entire family life had been a charade up to this point; a shadow box of something he craved and could never quite grasp. What was one more?

“Hey, hey—” Erik finally broke the silence when he pried Nicky’s fingers from pulling out all the curls on his head. Nicky sighed but let Erik take his face into his hands. He knew his smile didn’t reach his eyes when Erik’s frown softened. “I’m guessing Aaron still hasn’t called?” 

Nicky shook his head just the slightest, placing a hand over one of Erik’s to keep it against his cheek. “No. I’m beginning to think he’s passing it off like I hoped.” 

He didn’t want to admit that he was actually hoping he would hear _something_ back. Anything. Even if it was for Aaron to tell him to keep his pity party invitations to himself. It felt guilty either way, but the damage was done. 

“You were hoping he would ignore it when you left the message?” 

“Yes?” Nicky sounded about as convinced as Erik looked. He couldn’t remember everything he had babbled on about, holding on to only bits and pieces before Erik had eventually coaxed the phone out of his hands. It had been a long week of coddling on Erik’s part and a younger Nicky might have guessed he didn’t deserve it, but the way Erik was still listening and still thumbing over his cheekbone as he did gave Nicky a little more ground to stand on. “I’m too much of a coward to try again. This too shall pass, or however it goes.”

Nicky remembered when he had gotten the news of Tilda’s passing. He had met her only a handful of times, an aunt he saw during the holidays with a cousin too skittish to talk to him. That should have been his first clue. Andrew was a surprise from the beginning, and meeting him the day of the funeral had made it all the harder on each of them. Getting off on the right foot had never been an option. 

Erik pulled back just the slightest, and for a moment Nicky panicked, only for Erik to look as patient as ever, waiting for him to continue. Breathing space.

He loved him so much it made his teeth ache.

“No one ever gave them the time, Erik. No one ever listened. _I_ never listened. I went back and did what _I_ thought was right, and I think all I did was set them back. The harder I pushed, the further they grew apart.” Nicky felt the kink in his shoulders forming already from how hunched over he was getting. “I don’t even know if they talk now.” 

He had to give them some credit. Therapy had gotten them to acknowledge each other where Nicky failed, and grateful would be an understatement to how happy it made him. After that? Nicky wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if he would ever _be_ sure. That thought hurt more than it should have. They could handle their own problems now. Aaron had Katelyn. Andrew had Neil. Nicky had Erik. It evened out— 

—but it still left him biting the inside of his cheek.

There had to be more to it than that.

Erik was quiet for a long time, long enough for Nicky to lose himself back into his own memories of prodding at the twins. He had watched them navigate one another carefully, attentive to never be in the same room for longer than necessary, speaking aloud so little when the other was around he was sure it was some unspoken rule. Nicky had seen Aaron’s glares so often, it was almost hard to imagine him without them. At least he wasn’t yelling outright at Nicky anymore. Another small step up in _family,_ he supposed.

“Hey, look at me,” Erik spoke softly, searching Nicky’s face to make sure he had come back to him. “You worked two jobs to support two teenagers when you could barely call _yourself_ an adult. I think you should give yourself a little more credit for that.” 

“Erik, you weren’t there. I wish you would have been. Maybe things would have been easier.” He had gone from one broken home to more stability than he could ever have imagined… and then right back into the burned remains of someone else’s.

“I don’t think they would have appreciated a stranger in their lives.”

“ _I_ was a stranger in their lives,” Nicky said with such exasperation he felt it vibrate through his veins. For just sitting on the cusp of his late twenties, he’d never felt closer to death’s door in all his life. Which was saying something. “Sometimes I’m pretty sure I still am.”

Nicky picked up his plate, needing a distraction from the conversation, appetite now wiped from the board once more. He didn’t want to pull out of Erik’s touch, but even that was beginning to burn shame into his skin.

He hovered over the sink for a moment, watching water pour down the drain before trying to follow his own racing thoughts.

“They would have grown up like I did—they _did_ grow up like I did. Or fuck—” _Could he even say that?_ It felt insensitive to compare anything that had happened, and Nicky fell right back into that feeling of being on the outside looking in. “I was so selfish in why I wanted to help. I went back for them, really, I did! But I wonder if that was all, you know? I thought I could fix things. I thought: _maybe if I could fix them_ , I wasn’t the one who would feel so alone. I wanted a family as badly as I wanted to help.” 

The weight of his words hit suddenly, and he turned back to Erik to start to apologize. He hadn’t meant to imply Erik hadn’t given that to him, that he somehow had still been missing something, but Erik wasn’t looking at him with anything but an open expression to continue. Nicky’s shoulders relaxed minutely and he sagged back against the counter. 

“How could anyone be so cruel?” Nicky said, voice cracking without his permission. He wasn’t even sure who he was talking about anymore. There were too many letdowns in his life to count, every one of them turning a blind eye. How did he manage to do the same? “How could anyone see that kind of damage and not feel the need to do something?”

“It was impossible from the start. Aaron only saw me as four walls and a roof. Andrew—I don’t even know how Andrew saw me.” They spoke less than he and Aaron did, mostly through texts and the rare phone call. Anything he heard about him was through Neil, tight lip secrecy still in place regardless of the time passed. Andrew’s business was his own, and while Nicky understood that now more than ever, it didn’t make him any less mournful that things might have been different once upon a time. “I don’t know how they see me _now_.”

His hand started to tremble and he kept a firm grasp against the counter. 

“Who believes in family, right?” The words felt bitter on his tongue and suddenly another drink before noon didn’t sound so bad. 

“Are you speaking for them, or for yourself?” Erik asked. His tone wasn’t accusatory, but thoughtful. 

“I don’t know anymore,” Nicky finally said after a minute. It was exhausting to think this much on so little sleep. “A complete stranger had to walk into our lives to tell me how to talk to my own family and I _still_ managed to get that wrong.”

Neil had been a balm, one Nicky had probably relied on too much during those first few years. If he needed something from Andrew, he went to Neil. Neil had made it seem so simple: _just ask_. Nicky still couldn’t find it in him to grow that sort of backbone, even after all this time. It was less in fear of violence—another step up—but fear in rejection. 

Neil couldn’t tell Nicky how to talk to Aaron for obvious reasons, but at least Aaron returned his texts.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. He helped, did he not?” 

“I could have done better before that was necessary.”

“Everyone else had that option as well. You’re the first who tried.” Erik watched Nicky, waiting for any sort of self deprecating comment to fall out of his mouth. Nicky knew better than to beat himself up in front of Erik further, but he just...wasn’t ready to feel better about this yet. Erik hummed at the silent reply, all but reading Nicky’s mind. “Do you want my opinion?”

“Always.”

“Can you truly blame yourself for struggling when taking on something like that? When no one else was willing? Maybe you didn’t go back out of love, but you stayed for it, didn’t you? And that’s what’s eating at you now; wondering if you made that obvious enough. Arm’s length works both ways, and they fought you every step.” There was no disdain or pity in his voice as he spoke. Nicky knew Erik held nothing against his cousins, even if they were the ones that had reduced him to his current state. It was just a simple fact. “You didn’t have to do anything, but you _did_. You gave them that chance.”

Nicky bit his lip to swallow down the lump threatening to claw its way out. “I wish I believed in myself half as much as you believe in me.”

“Always have, haven’t I?” Erik made a come hither gesture and Nicky conceded, his wallowing benched for now as Erik pulled him down into the cradle of his arms. He just wished the weight of the arms around him could balance the lead in his stomach. “You kept them afloat.”

Nicky wanted desperately to believe he was right.

—

Another week passed and the radio silence was all Nicky could think about. A couple days was time to think, a week was expected, but two weeks was a death sentence for Nicky’s anxiety. He spun his phone around on the table, wondering if today was a good time to try again, or perhaps if he should have tried the day after. He wondered if the longer he waited, the worse it would get. 

“Good news!” Erik called from the hall. Nicky scrambled to pocket his phone and quirk the corner of his lips just so as Erik walked in. By the way Erik’s brow raised, he didn’t believe the put on expression for a second. Nicky’s face softened into a plea not to call it out, and Erik held up a small letter. “You’ve got mail.” 

He tossed the envelope across the counter as Nicky caught the name in the corner. “Neil?”

“He usually calls, doesn’t he?” Erik mused.

Nicky and Neil had found a solid middle ground for their relationship over the years, and for that he was infinitely grateful. It wasn’t that they spoke a lot either, mostly texts and the occasional surprise call, but it was...easier to talk to Neil. Sure, he didn’t respond to all of Nicky’s hundreds of texts, and Nicky was sure Neil found him a troublesome fly clogging his inbox most days, but he humored him occasionally. He was also the only way Nicky knew Andrew was doing okay. If Neil was easygoing in conversation, it meant Andrew wasn’t too far behind in sharing that attitude.

He must have stared at the envelope a little too long because Erik placed a light hand on his shoulder. “Do you want me to open it?”

“No, no. I just—” He let his hand crawl across the counter, hand unsteady like the envelope should make to bite him when he got too close. “It can’t be urgent if he’s going through snail mail, right?”

Erik said something about organizing the rest of the mail, a small reassuring squeeze to remind him he was there if Nicky needed anything. 

He picked up the near panic inducing strip of paper and examined the return address for the first time. 

It was Aaron’s. 

The static in his veins was a livewire now. It could be nothing at all. It could be an early card or a late one. Nicky suddenly couldn’t remember which holidays he was between. On the off chance it wasn’t, this card was Aaron’s way of responding through Neil, however the hell that was supposed to make sense. He wouldn’t know until he opened it, though, and suddenly the phone in his pocket felt like the lighter of the two judgement scales.

Erik’s words from their previous conversation lit up somewhere in the back of mind, pushing out the last bit of courage Nicky had, and he slid the lip of the envelope up. 

A postcard fell out alongside a folded piece of notebook paper, and a couple photos. 

The postcard caught his eye first: a sunny stretch of road next to a California billboard and an overly excited pair of lovers riding in a convertible. He flipped it over to see Neil’s scrawling on the back:

_Took another road trip recently. Andrew’s choice. Passed through a few cities. You’d probably love the sunshine here._

_\- Neil_

Nicky could have outright sobbed at the gesture, always far more sentimental than any of his other fami— 

_Oh._

Right.

The word formed a lump in his throat before he fully processed it, and the hitch in his shoulders returned. He peered a bit further down the card, another small scribble in a different ink, and distinctly different handwriting:

_Call Andrew some time. He’ll pick up._

Nicky was kind of glad Erik wasn’t around to hear the choked noise that finally tore the lump from his throat. It wasn’t quite the sting he was expecting, though. The corners of his eyes _were_ starting to sting, however, and there were still two parts left to this message. 

He tried not to crumple the postcard, placing it delicately back onto the counter and steeled his will for the photos. The first was a shot of Neil and Andrew’s apartment, accessories scarce which was of little surprise to Nicky. Neil didn’t carry a lot with him, and Andrew wasn't much of an interior decorator, but it looked comfortable. Lived in. It dawned on Nicky he hadn’t seen the place since they had gotten it set up. He had offered to help, but Andrew told him it would be a waste of a trip. The fridge in the background caught his attention, far more orange plastered across the front than the rest of Andrew’s preferred black on black color schemes. The back of the photo had the date of the move in and a small note: 

_We smuggled some of the Fox wall with us._

Nicky looked at the next photo and felt a sense of fondness he had been lacking for awhile. Andrew was sitting on the couch, book in hand, and glasses propped on the end of his nose— _when had he finally gone to get those?_ Nicky couldn’t see what he was reading, but he could see one of the cats perched on his lap. Nicky wasn’t sure he had ever seen Andrew look so...at ease. There was no crease in his brow, no frown pulling at the corners of his mouth, or even that usual look of boredom. If Nicky didn’t know any better—and he wasn’t often right about too many things—Andrew looked...happy. Maybe not in the kick your heels kind of way, but if the years had taught him anything, it was that happiness looked a little different on everyone.   
  
_He still pretends he can't tell the cats apart._

Nicky choked on his own laugh.

The last photo was the final straw on whatever gates were still managing to hold back the waterworks. Nicky pulled at his shirt to dab at the few tears that landed on the picture, careful not to mess it up further. He pinched the bridge of his nose, blinking a few times to clear the blur in his vision. When he looked back down, they threatened to spill all over again. 

It was clearly a shot taken from a vantage, the crop of a table taking up a corner of the photo. The twins sat in Aaron’s kitchen, a small dinner spread between the two of them and Katelyn. Andrew was lax in his posture, hand caught out in a gesture and mouth parted like he was in the middle of talking. Aaron sat across, arm draped over the back of Katelyn’s chair and seemingly listening to whatever it was Andrew was talking about. If all of that wasn’t an indicator of something close to civil, Katelyn herself was smiling, eyes crinkled at the corners. 

Following the pattern of the other two photos, he turned it over. 

_They talk more than you think._

Nicky wasn’t sure how long he sat there with his shirt pulled up to his eyes, trying to quiet the ragged breaths into something manageable. He was sure he looked a mess, but he could feel the tug of his lips forming a smile. The hiccups would start up soon if he wasn’t careful, though, so he focused on his breathing. He took a deep breath and wondered if Erik really hadn’t heard him, or was giving him space till he called him over. Remembering the note, he put himself back together long enough to pick it up with a shaky hand.

Immediately clueing in on Aaron’s chicken scratch— _was that a requirement for his field_ —Nicky glanced over the few lines:

_It looks like Neil is once again sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. I don’t know what he’s sending, and I don’t want to know, but I’ll save us the trouble of whatever he’s trying to tell you:_

_Stop worrying so much. You did fine._

_\- A_

Nicky felt for the burning hole in his pocket, tapping away at the keypad before hitting send.

 **[ You 18:37 ]** got your mail!! :))

Nicky thought for a moment before sending the next text.

 **[ You 18:40 ]** thank you neil. seriously. 

He didn’t expect his phone to go off before he sent the next message.

 **[ feral child 18:44 ]** You’re welcome. 

Nicky would just have to appreciate that he might be the most talkative of their group. He started up the other message, stopped, then started again. 

**[ You 18:58 ]** i’m sorry for calling so late the other night.

 **[ You 19:01 ]** everything kind of got away from me.

Nicky sat back and wondered if he should expect a reply nearly as quick as Neil’s. He double checked the clock to make sure he was still in time. No need to repeat past mistakes. His phone buzzing again made him jump.

 **[ a-a-ron 19:10 ]** Don’t mention it.

 **[ a-a-ron 19:10 ]** Seriously. Don’t.

Nicky couldn’t help himself.

 **[ You 19:11 ]** you meant it though. right? :(

 **[ a-a-ron 19:11 ]** Yes. Now stop crying.

 **[ a-a-ron 19:11 ]** If you don’t, I’m not calling you next week.

 **[ You 19:12 ]** :’)

Nicky resisted the urge to tell Aaron who he resembled there. Speaking of—

He stared at the other contact in his phone, more nerve wracking than the other two. Starting out the message a couple times, like he always had in the past, he tried to choose his words carefully. The little postcard stared up at him from over his phone, the words nudging him along.

He tapped at the contact and held the phone to his ear. 

It only rang once.

_“What?”_

Nicky smiled despite the flat tone on the other end. “Hey, Andrew.”

The phone didn’t feel like such a weight in his hands anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I firmly believe they would be okay one day.


End file.
